


Back Together

by mchase21



Series: You're My Glue [3]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 00:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mchase21/pseuds/mchase21
Summary: Newt?Hey Tommy.Wh-What’s going on? Where am I? Why can’t I –Shhh. Everything’s gonna be alright, Tommy.What? Newt? NEWT!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! So excited for you guys to read this one. I'm hoping it'll resolve all the angst from the previous works in this series. You should definitely read [Need You Now](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11162769) (part 1) and [Missing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11249541) (part 2) before this one.
> 
> Release schedule: chapter 1 today, chapter 2 tomorrow, chapter 3 on Sunday.
> 
> Enjoy :)

_Newt?_

_Hey Tommy._

_Wh-What’s going on? Where am I? Why can’t I –_

_Shhh. Everything’s gonna be alright, Tommy._

_What? Newt? NEWT!_

~ ~ ~

_He was falling. He should’ve been scared, but he wasn’t. He was too numb to be scared. Too heartbroken to be scared._

_The pain. Excruciating pain. Gone as quickly as it came._

_Then silence. Insufferable silence. Swallowing him up whole._

_A voice. A most calming and warm voice. Shining and shimmering like a light at the end of a tunnel. It made him feel fuzzy inside. He tried to hold onto it, as if it was his lifeline, but it faded away, leaving him feeling cold and empty and alone._

_The silence returned._

~ ~ ~

Thomas felt something hard underneath him. He tried to move, but a strange sensation shot through his body. It wasn’t quite pain – it wasn’t even uncomfortable, per se – but he stilled anyway, something telling him that he should take it easy. He decided the closest he could come to describing it was stiffness, as though his body hadn’t moved in years. He lay there for a few moments more as the haze in his mind cleared, and he realized that he was lying facedown on the ground. He tried to push himself up, but gave up when the same tingly feeling shot up his arms.

Slowly, his memories came back to him. He remembered standing on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the ocean. He remembered guilt gnawing at his heart as he tried to convince himself he wasn’t responsible for Newt’s death. And he remembered being hugely unsuccessful, the dark abyss in his heart consuming his entire being, until he decided that he could take it no longer and had stepped off the edge. 

_Am I dead?_

Thomas knew that was a silly question; after all, there was simply no way he could have survived the fall. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that it didn’t matter. He had barely been living before he jumped, spending nearly every minute lost in his past. He had been going through the motions of life – getting up in the morning, eating his meals, lending a hand here and there – without truly being present, trapped instead in the prison of his mind. It had almost been worse than being stuck in the Maze. At least in the Maze, they had a glimmer of hope that they could escape.

“Thomas?” A familiar voice rang in his ears. His head instinctively turned toward the voice, and Thomas paled when he managed to associate a name to the sound.

_Chuck?? No. That’s impossible. Chuck’s dead. He’s been dead for weeks. This is my mind playing tricks on me again._

“Thomas!” The voice was louder now and had a cheerful lilt to it. Thomas slowly opened his eyes, squinting as the sunlight blinded him. Once his eyes finally managed to adjust, Thomas could only stare at the short, pudgy boy kneeling in front of him, a large grin plastered on his face. 

Chuck laughed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he joked.

“Oh my god, Chuck,” Thomas whispered as he snapped out of his stupor. He forced himself up to his hands and knees, ignoring his body’s protests, and crawled to the younger boy, pulling him into a tight embrace. Thomas felt Chuck hug him back, and tears filled his eyes when he remembered the promise he had made to the boy so long ago, the one he wasn’t able to keep. 

“I’m sorry, Chuck! I’m so sorry!” he cried as he dropped his head onto the boy’s shoulder. “I promised we’d be safe, that we’d get out.” Chuck didn’t say anything, didn’t argue the fact that Thomas did indeed get them all out. Somehow, he knew that this was what Thomas needed. And so they sat, the only sound between them being Thomas’s sobs and the occasional shushing coming from Chuck. 

Thomas had no idea how much time had passed before he finally pulled back, still sniffling a little to himself. He stared down at the ground between them, unwilling to meet Chuck’s gaze. He felt responsible for everything that had happened to the boy and wanted nothing more than to make up for it, but he didn’t know where to begin. Suddenly, Chuck got to his feet, causing Thomas to snap his head up.

“Come on! I’m sure the others can’t wait to see you again!” The excitement in his voice was palpable, and Thomas noticed that he was practically bouncing with energy. 

“The… others?” Thomas asked, a little unsure, as he cocked his head to the side. _Were the other Gladers here? Was NEWT here?_

Thomas’s breathing quickened, but Chuck only shook his head and laughed. “Come on!” he repeated, grabbing hold of Thomas’s arm and pulling him to his feet. They hurried across a large pasture, and it was only then that Thomas really registered his surroundings. They were in a large field, scattered here and there with livestock munching happily on the grass. Further to his right was what looked like a cornfield, and surrounding the whole clearing were trees as far as the eye could see. Thomas looked toward the direction they were heading. A few makeshift buildings stood by the edge of the forest, and Thomas couldn’t help but notice how similar they looked to the ones that had been in the Glade. In fact, the whole area was vaguely Glade-like, save for the lack of giant concrete walls lining the perimeter. 

“Where are we?” Thomas asked Chuck, as his eyes continued to roam across the landscape. Now that he paid more attention, he noticed many more similarities between the Glade and their current environment.

“Heaven? The afterlife? Whatever you want to call it. All I know is we can plant and gather pretty much everything we need, and there are no grievers in the forest.” Chuck continued to prattle on, but Thomas stopped listening. _So I am dead_ , Thomas thought to himself. He didn’t really know how to feel about that. On the one hand, being dead was a lot less painful. Other than the deluge of guilt that had hit him upon seeing Chuck, he’d actually felt strangely at peace since waking up here, almost as if all the regret he’d carried with him since escaping WICKED had been left behind. At the same time, however, he was concerned about Minho and Brenda and everyone else he had left behind when he took his own life. 

Before he could resolve the conflict brewing within him, they arrived at the largest of the buildings. Chuck pushed open the door, revealing Alby and Teresa, who were sitting at a table looking at a map of some sort. Alby looked up when the door creaked open, eyebrows furrowed when he recognized Chuck standing at the door.

“Chuck? What are you doing back so early?” he asked, before his gaze fell on Thomas. His eyes widened, but it was quickly replaced with a wide smile as the boy got up and walked toward Thomas, pulling him into a hug. “Thomas! I feel like it’s been forever since I saw you! How are you feeling?”

“A little disoriented,” Thomas admitted, though he smiled back. It quickly faded when he saw Teresa walk up behind Alby, who noticed the change and stepped aside. “Teresa…” Thomas began, his eyes threatening to tear up again.

“Shush,” Teresa said softly, as she put a hand on Thomas’s cheek. “What’s done is done.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Thomas saw nothing but love and compassion in her soft, kind eyes. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms tight around her body as she stroked his back, relief and joy coursing through his veins. They parted after a while, and she gave him a warm smile.

Alby spoke up then. “Hey Chuck, we’ve got a bit to finish up here. Why don’t you take Thomas to see Newt? He hasn’t shut up about this shank since he arrived, so I’m guessing he’d be happy to see him. I think I saw him heading to the supply shed a few minutes ago.”

Chuck agreed eagerly, but Thomas froze at the mention of Newt’s name. He was vaguely aware of Chuck dragging him out the door toward another building he assumed was the supply shed, but his mind was racing through his last moments with Newt. His pulse quickened, and his palms started to sweat. _I can’t do this! I can’t see him yet!_ They arrived just as Thomas was entertaining the idea of running in the opposite direction as fast as he could, and Chuck gave him a little push toward the open door. He stood there, unmoving, staring at the entrance as though a monster would leap out any second and attack him. Chuck pushed him again, and Thomas slowly walked into the dimly lit room. His eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did, he saw a blond boy, squatting with his back to Thomas, searching through the piles of crudely made tools that littered the floor. 

“Newt?” he asked, his voice weak and wavering.

The boy turned, his face lighting up as he recognized the person standing by the door. Thomas’s breath hitched as he watched the boy stand with a smirk on his face; Thomas hadn’t realized how much he had missed that smile and that air of confidence that exuded from his very being. He took in all his features, features that he thought he would never see again, and gazed into his eyes, those vibrant, shining eyes that he hadn’t seen since they’d escaped from the Glade. They were just as he remembered, as full of life and energy and rebelliousness as they were the day they met. Finally the boy spoke, and Thomas let the smooth British accent flow over him, hanging onto every syllable.

“Hey there, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	2. Chapter 2

Newt stared at the spot where Thomas had stood just a moment ago. 

“Thomas!” he heard a voice shout outside, before Chuck peeked his head in. “What happened?” the younger boy asked Newt.

“I have no bloody clue…” Newt muttered. 

He watched Chuck leave, presumably to chase after Thomas, and Newt found himself alone in the room. He rubbed his eyes with his palms as he tried to think through what had just happened. He had been working in the garden, when Zart had told him that the builders had constructed several new tools that they had stashed in the supply shed. Missing the machete he had used in the Glade, he had gone there, trying to find a suitable replacement, and had been in the process of searching when a familiar voice interrupted him. 

Newt sighed. Seeing Thomas again had unearthed a trove of old memories. He smiled fondly as he recalled Thomas’s first night in the Glade, when the poor, flustered Greenie had gone and sulked by himself at the edge of the forest. As usual, no one else had noticed, so Newt had walked over to sit and talk with him. He had expected Thomas to ask pointless and unanswerable questions like all the other Greenies – “why am I here?” was one Newt had heard so many times that he had memorized a response for it – but Thomas had surprised him, instead asking Newt how he survived in his seemingly hopeless situation. That had launched an intimate conversation between the two, and they had sat and talked long into the night, staring up at the stars and constellations above. By the time they had finally decided to retire to bed, Newt had realized that Thomas was truly special, and Newt had known at that moment that he would trust Thomas with his life. 

Newt cringed a little at that last recollection. He had, quite literally, trusted Thomas with his life, and Newt was sure that that was the reason Thomas had sprinted out of the supply shed as soon as they had made eye contact. He rubbed his eyes again in frustration. Newt knew that his last moment with Thomas had been difficult for the boy. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would have felt had the roles been reversed. But Newt had hoped that Thomas would have made his peace with what happened by the time they met again. Newt wasn’t particularly surprised that he hadn’t, though, considering how soon their reunion had been. 

Newt sighed and sauntered out of the supply shed, leaning against the doorframe when he reached it. He knew Thomas would eventually come and talk to him, given enough time, but Newt was also sure that he could help dispel the demons that plagued Thomas’s soul. After all, Newt bore no ill will toward Thomas for what happened. He was truly happier here in the afterlife than he had been in the Scorch, when he had been able to feel the Flare slowly eating away at his sanity. Here, his mind was clear, clearer than it had been at any time since they’d escaped from the Maze. Sure, he had missed Thomas – perhaps even talked about him a little too much to anyone who would still listen – but he was here now. No, Newt bore no ill will toward Thomas; if anything, he needed to thank Thomas for pulling that trigger and putting him out of his misery, even though it meant that Thomas would have to shoulder the burden from that moment on. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw Chuck come running back up to him. “I can’t find him!” he shouted in a panic. 

“Which way did he go?” Newt asked, and Chuck pointed toward the tree line to their left. Newt stared in that direction for a while before realization dawned on him, and he started off at a jog, ignoring Chuck’s questioning shouts behind him. 

He ran for a solid 20 minutes before arriving at his destination, a small stream that carried water from a nearby mountain down to the lake close to their clearing. There, he saw Thomas sitting on a large rock embedded in the riverbank, watching the water flow past. Newt walked up behind him, shuffling his feet in the gravel to alert the boy of his presence, but Thomas didn’t acknowledge him. Newt thought for a second about what he was going to say before deciding to play it safe.

“How ya doin’, Tommy?” he asked. When Thomas didn’t respond, he tried again, “Mind if I sit?”

Thomas still didn’t make a sound, but he shifted to his right, making room for Newt next to him. Newt scrunched his face in concern. He hadn’t expected Thomas to refuse to talk to him like this. Part of him was dreading the conversation they were about to have – that is, if Thomas decided to engage with him – but he knew the sooner they talked through everything, the sooner Thomas would go back to being his usual cheerful self. Newt would do anything to see that Thomas again. 

Newt sat down in the space vacated by Thomas. He wanted to put an arm around the other boy to reassure him like he had done during those long nights in the Scorch, when they had wandered for days, lost with no destination in sight and increasingly short-tempered due to the searing heat. Back then, he had sat with Thomas whenever it was Thomas’s watch, assuring him that they would get through it together, no matter what they had to face. Newt had relished the fact that Thomas had always seemed to brighten when they talked late at night and had looked just a bit more optimistic the next day. 

Things felt different now, though, so Newt decided to avoid any physical contact. An awkwardness hung in the air between them as they sat next to each other, neither knowing quite what to say. Thomas pointedly avoided Newt’s inquisitive gaze, but Newt could still see that his eyes were slightly puffy and his cheeks were still smudged with tears that hadn’t been entirely wiped away. Newt’s heart clenched at the sight. He never liked seeing Thomas unhappy, and knowing that Newt himself was the reason was infinitely worse.

After what felt like a lifetime, Thomas broke the silence. “How’d you find me?” he asked, gaze still averted. Newt noticed that his voice sounded strained, as if he were trying too hard to keep it steady.

“Well, Chuck told me you had run off in this direction. I figured you would just keep going until you found a nice place to stop, and I remembered how much you liked that creek in Paradise, so I figured you might be here.” 

That statement got Thomas’s attention, and he snapped his head around to face Newt. “You—you could see me in Paradise?” Thomas stammered. 

Newt chuckled a bit at the bewildered look on Thomas’s face. He had never seen the boy look so shocked before; it was quite endearing really. “Yeah, we can visit the living world if we want. I’ve done that quite a bit actually, mostly to see how you and Min are doing. Alby’s been getting on my case recently ‘bout it, telling me I need to spend more time helping out here. That’s usually when I decide I need a break and disappear on him to check up on ya.” Newt gave Thomas a mischievous smile, hoping it would lighten the mood. It seemed to help somewhat, as Newt noticed the edges of Thomas’s lips twitch upward a touch. But the moment was short-lived, and Thomas soon turned his gaze back to the stream without another word. 

Newt sighed and contemplated what he should say next. He wanted to broach the subject carefully to avoid triggering Thomas again, but he soon came to the conclusion that there was no good way of doing that, so he decided to just be blunt about it. 

“You know, I was kinda hoping I wouldn’t see you here so soon.”

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Thomas’s face fell instantly, tears filling his eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He dropped his head to his knees, curling up into a little ball. Newt’s heart ached when he heard the muted sobs coming from the boy and he decided to throw out his previous resolve to not establish any physical contact. He wrapped his arms around Thomas, pulling him in close and resting his cheek on his head. “Shh, it’s okay Tommy. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he whispered. He felt Thomas relax against him, leaning into the embrace while his cries grew louder, all restraint melting away at the touch. 

They sat like that for a long time until Thomas eventually quieted. It was then that he spoke: “I remembered, Newt.”

Newt looked at the mop of brown hair resting on his shoulder, a confused look on his face. “Remembered what, Tommy?”

Thomas hesitated for a second, before sitting back up and looking right into Newt’s eyes. “I remembered watching you jump.”

Newt’s heart leapt into his throat. He stared into those sad, pained eyes, too stunned to respond, so Thomas continued. “You told me the last time we met that you hated the Maze, that you—you tried to kill yourself.” Thomas’s voice cracked, but he pressed on. “When I was standing on top of that cliff, I was thinking about that. What you said, I mean, and—and how we left things. And then I—I got this memory back. From before I was sent into the Glade. And I saw you running, and climbing that wall, and falling…” 

Thomas broke down again at that point, and Newt pulled him back in, feeling Thomas bury his face in the crook of Newt’s neck. Newt’s own tears blurred his vision as memories of hopelessness and despair hit him like a freight train, threatening to throw him back into the darkness of those days. He pushed those feelings away quickly, though, determined to be strong for Thomas. He stroked Thomas’s back, trying to find the words to comfort the boy. 

“I’m sorry Tommy. I shouldn’t have done that.” He paused to push Thomas back so that he could look into his eyes. “But that was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then, and I wouldn’t trade any of it because I might not be sitting here with you today otherwise. Do you understand me?”

Thomas dropped his gaze, seemingly unconvinced. “I—I shot you, Newt,” he said weakly. “I put you in that Maze. Everything that’s happened to you is my fault. How can you not hate me for that?”

Newt paused and thought for a moment. “I don’t hate you, Tommy, because you’re the best buggin’ thing that’s happened to me as far as I can remember. I don’t know what you were like before you came into the Glade, but since then, you’ve done nothing but put yourself in harm’s way for the rest of us. You ran out into the Maze to save Minho and Alby and you led us out of the Maze and away from WICKED. I don’t blame you for helping the creators because you’ve shown time and time again that you’re not that person anymore. And I sure as hell don’t blame you for shooting me; I’m so much happier here than I ever would have been as a crank. There’s a reason I trusted you, and only you, with that note, Tommy, and it’s because since I met you, you’ve done nothing but inspire me and give me hope that one day we’ll find something better, and between Paradise and here, I’d say that trust wasn’t misplaced. So you tell me why I would hate you, Tommy, ‘cause I can’t think of a single bloody reason.”

As Newt finished, he saw a warm smile spread across Thomas’s face, as tears once again welled in his eyes, though there was no sadness behind them this time. Newt let out a yelp as Thomas leapt forward to give Newt another hug, almost knocking both of them over. After regaining his composure, Newt let out a soft chuckle and returned the embrace.

“Don’t you bloody cry on me again, Tommy,” he joked, and he felt Thomas’s laugh vibrate against his chest. When Thomas pulled back, Newt marveled at the change in the boy’s demeanor. Gone were the dull, downcast eyes that carried within them a heavy burden and the stony expression that came from trying to numb the pain inside. In their stead were a shining, radiant look and a genuine, bright smile, as if a light had been switched on inside him, expelling all his inner demons. Newt realized that he hadn’t seen Thomas look this alive since the nights they spent together in the Glade, and he was exuberant to see this side of Thomas again.

They sat on the rock, watching the flowing river in front of them as a comfortable silence fell between them. “Hey Newt,” Thomas said suddenly. “You said you could visit the living world… Can you talk to people there too?”

Newt opened his mouth to respond, but then hesitated. “No,” he said finally, hoping Thomas would leave it at that. He didn’t, of course.

“How do you know?”

Newt sighed, turning to face Thomas and noticing that the boy was already looking at him. “Well, I tried to talk to you, when you were on that cliff,” he said as gently as he could.

He cringed when he saw concern flash across Thomas’s face. “You—you saw me on the cliff?” he asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Newt whispered, eyes cast downward at his feet. “I dunno. I guess I could kind of feel that something was wrong, so I went to check on you. You were walking toward the cliff, cryin’ and limpin’ a little. And you got to the edge and I was so scared you were just gonna keep going. So I tried talking to you, I tried to tell you that everything was okay and that I was happy where I was, but I couldn’t. I did manage to send you a breeze though.”

“Umm… what?” Thomas interrupted, and Newt looked up into Thomas’s inquisitive face. “A breeze?”

“Yeah. You know, a gust of wind?” Newt replied, with just a touch of sarcasm meant to mask the pain of reliving Thomas jumping off the cliff.

Thomas stared at Newt in disbelief. “So you thought a shucking breeze would calm me down? How long have you known me?”

Newt caught on to the teasing smile slowly spreading across Thomas’s face and squeaked in surprise when he felt a playful jab on his side. He put on a mask of annoyance before retorting.

“Well it’s bloody difficult to communicate when you’re dead, ya know?” he said with a small scowl, which Thomas saw through immediately. Thomas laughed then, a genuine laugh that rang through the air, bringing a smile to Newt’s face and warming his heart. It was true that Newt was happier and more carefree in the afterlife than he could remember ever being while alive. But now that Thomas was here, now that they were reunited, like two long-lost puzzle pieces fitting perfectly back together again, he knew it was going to be incomparably better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


	3. Chapter 3

Brenda sighed as she walked out of the kitchen with a plate of food. Minho had missed dinner again, the third time this week, and she was growing increasingly worried about his health. Brenda knew that Minho would never admit it, but the boy was having trouble dealing with Thomas’s death. He was still an effective leader, for the most part putting his own concerns aside to make sure all their daily tasks were done properly and to set long term goals and projects for them, but Brenda noticed several occasions when he became just a bit more absent-minded, lost in his own thoughts. 

The worst part was that Minho wouldn’t let anyone help him. Brenda had tried several times to get him to talk about what was going through his head, but he insisted that he was fine every time. The only person he had really opened up to was Thomas; they used to sit together during their first nights in Paradise talking about the Gladers who didn’t make it, while Brenda sat with them, listening to their stories. But now Thomas was gone, and Minho had locked his grief deep inside, not willing to let anyone help him shoulder the burden. 

She walked by Minho’s shelter, peeking in to see if he was there. Unsurprisingly, it was empty, so she continued on toward the creek. The creek had been Thomas’s favorite place in Paradise, and ever since the funeral, Minho had been frequenting it as well. She thought back to the funeral they had for Thomas. It had been a simple affair, a relatively unceremonious setting of the body into the ground, followed by a few words from people who wanted to speak before the hole was filled. Minho had spoken first, recalling tales of Thomas’s bravery and occasional sheer lunacy in the Maze and Scorch. His eyes had been filled with tears through it all, though he stubbornly refused to let them fall. Brenda sighed. _Boys and their pride_ , she thought to herself. _Can’t even take off their masks of masculinity in public for even a second._

As she arrived at the stream, she saw Minho sitting on top of a fallen log and walked up behind him. The crunch of the leaves beneath her boots alerted the boy to her presence, and he looked around as she neared. Brenda gave him a small smile; despite his attempts to hide it, she could see that he’d been crying again. _How sad it must be, to have to grieve alone._

She sat down upon the log next to Minho, handing him the plate of food. “You need to eat,” she said pointedly, her voice indicating that there was no room for debate.

“Thanks,” he nodded, taking the plate and setting it on his lap. He picked at his food, playing with it more than eating it, but Brenda pretended not to notice. _At least he’s eating something_ , she reasoned. When he set his plate down on the log next to him, she spoke up.

“You know, you should really talk to someone about how you’re feeling,” she said. She expected some pushback, but continued when Minho stayed quiet. “It doesn’t have to be me. I’m sure Frypan or Gally would be more than happy—”

“No,” he said quickly, cutting her off. “No, it's not that. It has nothing to do with you. I just…” He took a deep breath, rubbing his face with his palms. “I just wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet,” he said finally, with a sigh, shoulders slumping a little. He stared at the river before them, and for the first time, Brenda noticed the heavy bags under his eyes.

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” she tried cautiously.

Minho didn’t respond for a long time. Just as Brenda was about to change the subject, she heard him answer in a low voice. “I don’t know,” he said, his gaze fixed on a spot in the horizon. 

_Well, that’s progress. Usually, he’d just say no and walk away._ Minho was still staring off into the distance, so Brenda turned to look at the horizon herself. “Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.”

They sat together in silence for a while until she heard Minho give a deep sigh. She glanced over at him when he spoke, “I miss them.” His eyes were cast down at the ground right in front of him, filled with tears that he tried to keep from falling.

“I know,” she said softly, putting a hand on his back, stroking it gently. 

Minho dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes, wiping the tears away. “It’s just that Thomas was always the leader, pushing us forward ever since we escaped the Maze. I feel lost without him next to me. And Newt… I’ve literally known Newt for as long as I can remember. He was always the one to keep us from ripping each other’s heads off.” He gave a sad laugh at the recollection, before his face grew serious again. “Even when things looked hopeless – especially then. They were the two closest friends I had, Brenda. They were people I would call my family, and now they’re just… gone.”

“I know what you mean,” Brenda replied in a sad voice. “Living out in the Scorch, I watched way too many of my friends either get killed or become infected with the Flare. And it’s hard because they’re people you thought would be around you forever, and suddenly, they’re not.”

Minho looked up then, and Brenda met his gaze with a small smile. “How’d you move on?” he asked.

Brenda thought for a second. “Well at some point, I realized that my last memory of them, the last time I saw them, was always when they were at their weakest points. Those that died, they were scared, terrified even. We were usually running for our lives at that point. And those that were infected, well, they were fighting a losing battle for their own sanity. I can’t even imagine what that was like for them.” Brenda sighed, a wave of sadness washing over her as she remembered the friends she had lost so long ago. “At some point, I realized that I wasn’t just mourning them. I was mourning for who they used to be. So I started trying to remember them as they were before the Scorch, when they were happy and carefree and confident. This was also about the time when I first met Jorge. And between having Jorge there for me and remembering my friends in a positive light, the way they would want to be remembered, I started feeling better. I realized that I had people around me that would help and support me no matter what and that I could carry on the memory of my friends, and because of that, they’ll forever be a part of me, giving me their strength and loyalty and love in everything I do.”

Minho nodded silently, absorbing Brenda’s words like a sponge. He smiled a little, and gave Brenda a look of gratitude. She was right, after all. Newt had said that he wanted to be remembered by his days in the Glade, and Minho was sure Thomas would’ve wanted something similar. “I just wish I knew that they’re okay,” he said finally. “That they’re happy wherever they are right now.”

A gust of wind blew between the trees suddenly, starting weak and coming to a crescendo before slowly subsiding again. It was a cool wind, in stark contrast to the stifling heat that surrounded them due to the unforgiving sun. Minho was reminded of the breeze he had felt while standing on the edge of the cliff, moments before he had discovered Thomas’s body. Just like that time, he felt a sense of calm rush through his veins, as if the breeze carried with it a promise that everything will be okay.

Brenda smiled next to him. “Well, there’s your answer,” she said simply.

Minho looked over at her with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Brenda laughed then, giving Minho an amused look. “Come on, Minho. We haven’t had a hint of a breeze in this forest since we got here. You think such a cool, refreshing breeze just happened to occur for the first time right after you said you wanted to know that Thomas and Newt were happy?”

“So what?” Minho challenged, skepticism written all over his features. “You think the breeze— _the breeze_ —was supposed to be a message?”

Brenda smirked as she stood. “The dead work in unexpected ways,” she said, as she turned to head back to their shelters. “You coming?” she asked Minho.

“Nah, I’m gonna stay a while longer,” he replied. Brenda nodded in acknowledgement and left, leaving Minho alone with his thoughts. He stared out at the water again, contemplating Brenda’s words. It was starting to get dark, so Minho stood, about to head back to the shelters himself. He cast one last glance at the scene before him and whispered, “Good luck out there.” Another breeze picked up then, and Minho smiled before turning and following in Brenda’s footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This has been such an exciting journey for me. I first wrote Need You Now when I was kinda in a dark place emotionally, and I had really wanted to dig into that pain I felt and produce a chilling piece of work. And then fast forward a month, and I've written two more, with this last one becoming the embodiment of the process of getting better (at least that was the goal :D). 
> 
> I hope reading this series as a whole was as transformative for you as writing it was for me. I only started getting serious with writing about two months ago, and this series has been the one I've put the most into so far, both in terms of my time and in terms of myself, and I'm super happy I got to share this experience with all of you :)
> 
> This is the last planned installment in this series, mostly because I feel like the story has come to a natural conclusion here, but if you have ideas / suggestions, feel free to leave them below!
> 
> And as always:
> 
> Comments, feedback, kudos = love <3


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